


The Sun, the Moon, the Stars All Bear My Seal

by Dardarot



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Demon AU, Demon Kylo Ren, Demon Slayer Rey, Demon/Human Relationships, Demon/Human Sex, F/M, Sugar Demon, because of that one text post, by lilithsaur, it's my reinterpretation of Lucifer!Kylo and Lilith!Rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dardarot/pseuds/Dardarot
Summary: “I am Rey of Jakku, Warrior of Light, Slayer of Demons,” she sets her sword alight and burns her face and the gatekeeper’s in holy blue fire. “Give word to Kylo Ren that I have arrived.”“The Prince,” a whisper. “The Prince?” a gasp. “The Prince,” an offence.“Yes, the Prince,” she drags the dress behind her. “Give word to the Prince that his bride has arrived.”





	The Sun, the Moon, the Stars All Bear My Seal

The skies wept and the earth swallowed a maiden whole before she saw her twenty-third spring. They buried her with Saint Luke’s sword of holy fire in a wedding gown of purest white. They mourned as the child of the deserts that they let wander into a snowy forest.

Now she wanders through a white storm, white skirts in whitest snow. Her left hand is frozen in front of her - the other, on the sword. Her blood is cold and her heart is ice.  
But her feet still wander.

They only stop when they reach a cave - a dark oasis in a pale desert. They freeze into place not by their or even their mistresses’ will - but by that of the Gates.

“Abandon hope all ye who enter here.” The gatekeeper is an echo, dark and distant.

“I am Rey,” she draws her weapon.

“If you have wandered here,” the cave called out. “You are nothing but damned.”

“I am Rey of Jakku, Warrior of Light, Slayer of Demons,” she sets her sword alight and burns her face and the gatekeeper’s in holy blue fire. “Give word to Kylo Ren that I have arrived.”

“The Prince,” a whisper. “The Prince?” a gasp. “The Prince,” an offence.

“Yes, the Prince,” she drags the dress behind her. “Give word to the Prince that his bride has arrived.”

 

*

 

The clouds gathered and the waters swallowed a maiden whole before she saw her twentieth summer. The nuns had warned her about the well and how it was the darkest of spots among the remaining ruins. They had Saint Luke’s remains buried as far away from it as they could. But the dead don’t speak and they don’t wield swords either. And that cursed well was calling to her. And so she answered.

Now she slides off the cavern’s mold-matted walls she has to climb with the Sword of Holy Fire still at her hip. There are no answers to be found here, no signs and no divine. There is only herself staring back and the mocking sound of her echo. There is only darkness.

“My parents,” her punches to the putrid pool do little to disrupt it. “My family,” she draws the sword out of the scabbard. “Let me see them,” she strikes at her own reflection and it strikes her right back with a splash. “Please,” she surrenders and sinks down further.

The waves settle into a steel stillness, almost silver-like, as if the moon followed her into the well. But the sky only got heavier and grayer out there as the water got warmer and clearer down here. And Rey’s reflection doesn’t belong to her anymore. She is sharing it with what she was sure had to be her shadow.

She was sure of it, but then it started to speak.

“The girl I’ve heard so much about,” the darkness spoke and the rain stopped before it could join the other drops in the depts.

She was sure the air stopped before reaching her lungs.

“Don’t be afraid,” the echo came back a lot deeper and thicker to her, as if it those walls could actually answer.

“Who are you?” A breath made its way into her chest.

“I’m the rightful owner of the Holy Fire,” the shadow shifted behind. “It was taken from me. But you returned it. You, a scavenger.”

Once she learned how to breathe again, the darkness took on a shape separate to her own. It was human in the edges of its cheeks and the roundness of its lips, but a beast in the shine of its eyes. If it weren’t for their ungodly glow, she might have mistaken this reflection to be the one of a young man she might have met in the market place back in Jakku. Or in daydreams. Or even nightmares.

“I’m not giving you anything.”

“You know I can take whatever I want,” those lips – those lips – they moved and his mouth made its own words instead of borrowing her own voice as it bounced off the walls. A voice – right behind her.

The danger was material, no longer a mirage. She could defend herself from earthly things and the hot air tickling her neck was as earthly as the darkness was ever going to get. So she used her sword to strike once more.

There was no splash, but there was a ripple in the clouds. The rain obeyed the laws of God once more and began filling the well again.

As for the darkness, it was now illuminated by blue flames. Its human face was split in half and its beastly eyes were blown up. It was gone at the third stroke of lightning. It melted away back into the shadows, back into the rain.

And as Rey looked for any sign of his return, she saw the red tint of the water and felt the spring of a bloody river on her right arm.

 

*

 

The palace shook and its servants shivered as the Prince pushed back the throne as he stood taller than he ever stood before. The cape that struggled to cover his shoulders billowed behind as he slid down the steep steps. The crown was heavy upon his scarred brow as he dipped his chin into his collar.

“What girl?”

“She said she know you, my lord,” a demon that had already been choking on his words was struggling to speak against his master’s grip. “She demands to see you. She claims to be – forgive me – your betrothed. Forgive me.”

“Kylo Ren,” a sound – a sickly sweet sound – dipped honey in his ears. It was the sound of her – his betrothed. “We made a deal.”

 

*

 

The walls haven’t stopped talking and the sisters haven’t stopped praying since they fished the girl out of the dark place – the well. The shadows grew taller and the ceiling higher as she fell deeper into her own dark place – her mind.

“You heard what Mother Superior said, sister,” the wall closest to the door spoke. “As soon as she is better, she’s to leave Ahch-To. So stop doting on her.”

“She has nowhere to go,” another wall answered. “She has nobody to go back to. Saint Luke’s sword called to her. He led her here.”

“Then let it lead her away from our monastery.”

The room grew smaller and smaller each time she blinked. The ceiling got higher and higher each time she coughed. And the fire burned colder and colder each time she shivered. It was as if she was back in the well.

It was as if it followed her out.

The nuns had called it a fever – the silhouette of a sickness. Rocks didn’t have voices of their own and shadows didn’t run around without their owners. But they were speaking and they were moving the same as they did back in the well.

It did speak and it did move.

“Seems we can’t be rid of each other,” the wall spoke. “Seems I’m stuck with you,” the shadow shifted. “Seems you’re stuck with me,” the fire burned the wound. Her wound. His wound.

As nights grew longer, her fever burned hotter. And as her nights burned hotter, the fire grew stronger. His touch grew stronger. Hotter.

“Don’t be afraid,” he traced the cut he – it must have been him – churned into her arm. It must have been his. “I feel it too,” he took to tracing his – it had to be hers – own cut on his face.

“But,” she heard herself rasp as soon as her voice returned to her. “It’s you that’s afraid.”

That was when he retreated into the shadows, in the darkest corner of the room, right between the walls. He had gone back from where he once came. He had gone back into the dark place – the well.

 

*

 

“We made a deal.”

Three earthly years ago, Rey, the Scavenger Girl, the Child Raised by Sands had wished to see her parents. But she already knew where to find them. So three years ago, the Prince of Darkness sent her to dig up a pauper’s grave in the Jakku desert. She didn’t need him to see their remains. Three years ago, the Devil refused to make a deal.

“We didn’t,” he lowered his lowly servant and loosened his hold on his throat. “I didn’t bargain for your soul. Remember?”

“But you did grant me my wish,” she put out the sword and it was as holy and untainted as he had always known it. But he couldn’t say the same for her dress, more red than white and more off than on. “Remember?”

“I showed you where their souls belonged. With me, burning for all eternity,” he flew across the floor, his feet carrying every inch of him with the speed of sound. “I showed you they weren’t worth dying for. None of those desert dwellers were.”

“Yet here I am,” her own feet carried her with the weight of the living world chaining them to the ground. “Another damned soul.”

“No,” he slid his thumb across the scar – his scar – as each of his hands wrapped around each of her forearms. “You may be nothing to them, but you’re everything to me.” And for the first time since their first encounter in Ahch-To, he said, without mockery or contempt. “You’re my betrothed.”

 

*

 

Today was going to be the day he would be rid of her. He was going to fulfil hid of the bargain and she hers. Today was going to be the day he would be free of her, her stubbornness, her neediness and her awful, awful light.

“Burn her!”

“The witch!”

“Burn the witch!”

Today was going to be the day he would finally be rid of her. But not before scrubbing the dirt off his boots and dust off the sand off his coat. Not dirtying them one more time.

“She deals with deamons!”

“Deamons!”

Wherever Rey went, he followed. She had the Holy Fire, so he followed. She had his mark, so he followed. So he followed her back to Jakku.

Such a dirty, dusty place.

“I’ve slayed the monster,” she raised her hands in surrender. Foolish child. She had all the power, all the means to defend herself. Still, she surrendered to the, to her people. “I’ve slayed the Sand Worm.”

“You consort with the Devil!”

“The Devil!”

She denies this. She denies the days he had to endure at her side. She denies the nights she enjoyed in his company. Foolish girl. Hasn’t he been generous enough? Hasn’t he feed her the finest foods? Hasn’t he thought her more than any scriptures could?

“The sword,” her voice trembles, but not as much as her hand is. “It’s yours if – if you show me my parents.”

“No.” Foolish girl. She could have every single one of them silenced. She could have every single one of them slain. She could become the hero they need, but don’t deserve. Yet she chooses to chase ghosts. “You already know where they are,” he

“Take. Me. To them.”

“They’re here. They’re in Jakku. Buried in a pauper’s grave right here – in the desert.”

Today was going to be the day he was to be rid of her. Her foolishness, her compassion and her light. Her awful, awful light.

 

*

 

Life with him was not comfortable, but it was comforting. He was not like any other man because he wasn’t one. He was less, some would say. But he was more, Rey would never admit to herself.

She had forgotten the feeling of an empty stomach and the chill of the night while she traveled with him. She had learned that she has knots in her back that only he can loosen and that she has ticklish thighs. She had known cotton and silk and the smell of cinnamon and lavender.

Rey had lived in the closest thing an orphan from Jakku had come to luxury.

The afterlife with him was both comfortable and comforting. Cinnamon and lavender were her choice fragrances. Cotton were her undergarments and satin were her gowns. And his massage was foreplay.

“How did you ever survive without me?”

The Prince of Darkness was at the end of his bed – their bed – worshipping her feet. Her very, very sore feet. She had been wandering for so long. It was so, so good to be finally home.

“I didn’t,” she pressed her pedicure into his groin – growing bigger with each toe he traced. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You are,” he slides his palm down her soles to her heels and separates them. “You’re finally here,” his shoulders hold each of her legs up as he moves between them. “Finally,” his lips scorch the skin under her knee, up her legs and up her thighs.

“You’re stuck with me,” she sighed into the elbow she’s hiding under. “For all time,” her breath betrayed her when his tongue – long and ludic – gets his first taste of her.

She couldn’t tell if he was drooling or if that was all her – but there was enough dampness down there to break a damn down. And she couldn’t know for sure, but he must have been thirsty because he couldn’t stop himself from suckling on what must have been the most succulent little sharp end. It was the most sensitive as well.

“For all time,” she chanted as he canted his hips, pounding a pillow in her stead. “For all time,” she pounded her own pillow with her fists. “Oh, for all time,” her thighs tangled themselves around his head.

“Deal?”


End file.
